《Everyone Dies Alone but not necessarily in space》#32
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"Shipmates, friends, citizens of the United Coalition of Planets, it has long been said that what makes our peoples so strong is our desire to be rich not just in gold but in spirit.
"But what is it to be rich in spirit, if not to know thyself? And how can one know thyself without knowing the universe and one's place in it? How can you look to that future without understanding the past?
"Today, then, may enrich our spirits more than any day before. For today, we conquer time itself."
Here he was again, on the bridge of the ship that had once been his. Though he had been promoted decades ago, it still felt like home.
"Admiral Shimizu on the bridge," they'd said, standing to attention. Many of them had spent years on this project, the culmination of a monolithic, controversial, extraordinary effort of science and exploration. Many of them had flecks of tears in their eyes, which seemed to sparkle like frost on their cheeks.
No. He'd never been here before. He couldn't have. The age he felt in his limbs was alien; his uniform was novel and yet as familiar as the khaki he'd typically worn leading the Movement into battle.
The Movement…
"W-what is this?" he said, his voice hoarse with age and unfamiliar. "Where am I? Who are you people?"
Their smiles seemed to freeze, and he felt a sharp, almost audible pain pass through his mind at a strange angle. In that brief moment of hazy consciousness, the strange people around him vanished, and his body seemed to return to normal.
"Do you have any idea what it takes to surprise me?" a voice said, seemingly from all around him. "Do you know how unsettling that is to a transinfinite being whose very essence is the complete instantiation of all that is possible? How painful? In your terms it is like discovering you are missing a limb, during that jerking feeling on a rocking chair when it is about to fall over, and also getting kicked in the balls."
Kaito's mind was racing. In normal circumstances, this was the sort of conversation he would have to shut down and think for a few minutes before he knew how to proceed. But something told him that wasn't going to fly here. Through his memory he located the familiar surge of adrenaline that came with addressing an audience like the Movement assembly, the feeling of control and power. He realised it was the same as he had felt in that… memory? Then he imagined Ikaroa, with a hand on his shoulder, keeping him grounded. And Rui…
"Fuck you going off on your own. I'm coming too."
That was it.
He felt youth and vigour return to his limbs.
"If you are the one responsible for bringing me to this… whatever this is," Kaito said, "Then you are hardly in a position to complain to me about an unpleasant surprise."
"Did I bring you here? Let me see. Oh, wait, yes, I did. On account of you being dead, you see."
A cold chill ran up Kaito's spine, but before it reached his mind, it was met with cold resolve, and too much hope for it to conquer. "I'm not fucking dead," he said.
"Are you not? Excuse me a moment."
The voice, the presence, the consciousness, that had seemed to fill up the air around him seemed to be rushing to one spot, just in front of the viewscreen of the strange ship's bridge, agglomerating into a neon blue triangle.
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"No, you are," the triangle said. "I'm quite sure of it."
"Please attempt to prove that to me, seeing as I am unlikely to convinced of it while still conscious."
The triangle sighed. "Very well. As if this wasn't already enough of a headache. Are you not Admiral Shimizu of the Coalition Starfleet, erstwhile leader of Project Urashimako and Captain of the UCS Endeavour, where it appears we are standing?"
Kaito's eyes widened. "I am not. My name is Shimizu Kaito, but I have never been called Admiral, nor have I held any of those other positions you attribute to me." He stared at the all-but self-proclaimed God in front of him, whom he had apparently metaphorically kicked in the balls. He almost didn't dare say it, but, "Is… is it possible you have me mixed up with someone else?"
"It is not," replied the triangle, firmly. "Oh, wait, shit, you're not another fucking twiceborn are you? Like that, whatsername, Laila?"
"You know Laila?" Kaito replied, looking up.
"Of course I know Laila," the triangle sniffed. "Supreme beings such as I know all that ever is, was, and could be. It just takes a moment to summon that, in this finite–" he pronounced the word as one might the word 'dogshit', "–form. But it appears I have met Laila."
"That was it," Kaito said, "We were going to meet Laila. Oh, God…"
The memories came rushing back. Ikaroa had killed the Master. On instinct, she'd said. She hadn't thought through the implications. All of Earth's sentinels had received immediate automatic instructions to seek out and eliminate all members of the Movement in vengeance. Only Prince Est'Emper's jamming signal had kept their small party safe. They'd met up with Ikaroa at the Meitagenan Cathedral in Jerusalem, and…
"I prefer the name Deltaworm, as a matter of fact," said Deltaworm.
"This is the Network," Kaito said. "I am inside the Network. And you are, you must be…" he trailed off, feeling like he almost knew, but couldn't quite grasp it.
"I am, as far as the Meitagenans are concerned, a network virus," exposited Deltaworm. "What I am as far as you are concerned is another matter. You are twiceborn then. Do you have any idea how much trouble the universe goes to to prevent that sort of thing from happening? Technically, in finite form, I can't even get my head around it. Your existence is not Turing computable. There are powers in this universe so far beyond the limited comprehension of your ape brain that even so much as knowing they exist would shatter your consciousness into a thousand pieces, and those powers consider your very existence to be unacceptably untidy. Fortunately for you it appears I am being merciful. I must have had some sort of plan."
"Then it seems wise that I know what you mean by twiceborn," advanced Kaito.
"In your terms, a time travel duplicate," Deltaworm replied with a sigh. "Try for a moment to step beyond the confines of your limited human mind and contemplate eternity. Time is not linear. It is not even really nonlinear, in the technical sense. It is more like a plane. There is not just history, but also a history of histories. Versions of reality that emerged and were overwritten as irresponsible time travellers, like you, changed history more than the universe could compensate for. To be twiceborn means you changed history sufficiently that you prevented the events that led you to travel back in time in the first place from occurring. The result is often a duplicate version of that person, who lives an entirely separate life, though fate often intervenes to steer that person into similar circumstances. You are Admiral Shimizu, so I would expect, for example, that you hold some position of authority or command?"
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Kaito raised his eyebrows. "Inasmuch as any human holds a position of authority or command in this godforsaken universe, I do."
Deltaworm spoke smugly. "There you are, you see, proof you are dead after all. It's not my fault I didn't realise you were alive as well."
Having got to know Deltaworm a little better, Kaito felt comfortable asking, "I need a few minutes to think about this."
"Very well," Deltaworm said, with a mixture of reluctance and resignation. "That's your chair there in the centre, I expect you will find it comfortable."
Kaito looked round at the most Captain-y Captain's Chair he had ever seen in his life, shrugged internally, and sat down. It did feel comfortable; somehow familiar.
"Is this…" Kaito ventured, "Is this the normal experience someone would have travelling by Network? Do you often meet people in this fashion?"
"Of course not," said Deltaworm. "We do not lower ourselves to conversation with finite beings unless we have to."
"Then I must deduce seeing Admiral Shimizu in the Network must have been quite some surprise," Kaito surmised. "Who was he?"
"Kaito, Kaito, Kaito… If you're using a third-person pronoun for yourself, you have clearly not understood," deflected Deltaworm. "Do I really have to go over all that again? It's not pleasant for me, taking this form, you know."
"That's not necessary," persisted Kaito, "But if you insist, who was I?"
"We do not know much of your early life," said Deltaworm, "Seeing as you were born in a version of history prior to the Network's construction. Immediately prior, as a matter of fact, seeing as you constructed it."
What.
"What?!" Kaito replied aloud, startled out of the possibility of an intelligent remark.
"Not with your own bare hands, of course," expanded Deltaworm. "But it was your project."
Kaito was stunned. "Why would I…"
Deltaworm sighed. "If you insist, it would be easier if I show you."
Kaito stared at it, mouth hanging slightly open, but nodded.
***
"Meitagenan vessel," Kaito was saying, "This is Captain Shimizu of the UCS Endeavour. You have crossed into the demilitarised zone. Withdraw or explain yourself."
The Captain Shimizu standing before Kaito was not as aged as he had felt at first. He looked remarkably like Kaito's father as he remembered him, perhaps twenty years older than Kaito was now.
"Their weapons are charged, sir," another officer said.
"As are ours," Shimizu reminded her, before addressing the Meitagenans again. "If you attack us now, the only ones who will be feasting are the vultures. We each know why the other is here. We have three choices. We may die, we may leave, or… we may investigate the tachyon emissions together."
***
They were in the Captain's office now, a few days later. Paintings hung on the wall of the birth of Momotarō and of Odysseus lashed to his mast. He was talking to the officer from before, over sake.
"What has begun today," Shimizu said, "Is without precedent in the known history of the galaxy. If we have indeed discovered the first step to a means of travelling through time, the magnitude of the scientific discovery in itself could be eclipsed only by the discoveries it would enable us to make if we could use it as a tool. Yet it is also a weapon without equal. If the Meitagenans develop it before us, it will mean the end of our civilisation. Even if we develop it first, the best we can hope for is a cold war of mutually assured destruction, kin to the history of my own world in the 20ᵗʰ century. We have an absolute obligation, not just to our own citizens but to every living thing in the galaxy, to rise above that and do better."
***
They were in a meeting room, on Earth, though a far greener and richer Earth than Kaito had ever known. Shimizu's uniform had changed, and he looked older. Almost everyone else in the room wore the same decoration.
"What you are proposing, Admiral," one of the others was saying to him, "Is provocative, reckless, and borderline imperialist in the scope of its domineering ambition. It is not what the Coalition stands for."
Admiral Shimizu banged his fist on the desk. "If we cannot stand, what does it matter what we stand for?"
"Admiral…" one of the others said. A strange mix of fear, pity and horror was in his voice.
"I didn't mean that," the Admiral said, quickly. He looked down, and sighed. "I have been searching for historical and mythological precedents. Nothing seems to…"
He stood, scratching the back of his neck. "Only the monotheistic religions ever dreamed that an intelligent agent could ever possess this much power. But even they never dreamed that Heaven would contain a throne, and that it would be vacant, waiting for someone to sit down! Now we know, and what's more we have a head start. The only way this ends is that the galaxy will have a God. The question before us now is what manner of God we choose. Or letting the Meitagenans choose for us."
There was quiet in the room for a long time. Eventually someone said, "Any civilisation faced with this dilemma would feel as we do now. No argument we make could ever justify to them taking this power for ourselves. Nobody has that right."
Admiral Shimizu walked over to a presentation screen, and activated it. "I am proposing a galaxy and history-spanning computer, constructed in the distant past. It will be capable of observation, communication and the regulation of time travel technology itself. Nobody has the right to this power, and yet, as is the general property of knowledge, it cannot be forbidden, only contained. It follows that the duty of those who come to wield it is to use it only to prevent its use by others. The only worthy God is one who regrets His necessity. Yet to ignore that necessity is to leave the universe to crumble and die."
***
The conference room disappeared, and they returned to the bridge of the Endeavour. Many of those present were the same as Kaito's first vision of this lost history, but now they were going about their work.
"Admiral," said one of the officers, "We're getting a proximity alert from one of the Network terminals in the Mokanian sector. It…" The officer paled. "The vessel has a Meitagenan flag. They're hailing."
***
The images faded away from between them, and Kaito was once again staring at that infuriatingly simple little triangle. All pretence had disappeared from Kaito's face. All the affected dignity he had learned from years of power could no longer be sustained. His mouth was hanging open. The neon blue triangle had no eyes to meet, but he couldn't look at it anyway. His feet left the ground, and he involuntarily hugged his knees close to his chest. He couldn't even cry. He felt his life was utterly, completely over. The last, intractable fragment of a stain on the fringes of creation that nobody had quite managed to scrub out of existence. His heart was filled with a despair and shame so complete it had no beginning and no end.
"While you were in the past setting up the Network," Deltaworm said, as the memories faded, "A chance encounter with a Meitagenan vessel in the early stages of their civilisation represented too good an opportunity to refuse. So you did what the United Coalition of Planets always does: extend a welcoming hand. Except they bit it off. Your crew were all killed, and the Meitagenans took effective, though never perfect, control of the Network. Their imperfect hold on it has been a great advantage to us. The only one who might be able to disrupt that is you, Admiral Shimizu. That is, if you remembered anything at all about any of this. So you understand why I was alarmed to see you alive and well, casually superluminating your way from Earth to the nearest Networked planet to Fol'brdr."
"Are you going to kill me?" Kaito asked. There was emotion in his voice, but he had no idea what it was.
"Apparently not," said Deltaworm casually. "I can't remember why, I don't really remember things."
Kaito looked up, "So what exactly was all that you just showed me? A horror story to crush my soul?"
"I'm afraid not," Deltaworm said. "That's not how it works."
Kaito was still not able to look at her, but his posture marginally relaxed. "What should I do?"
"I will not say," Deltaworm said, considering. "I arrived here in the belief that I was neutralising a threat. If you have a place in the grand scheme, you should find it for yourself. That is my intuition. Now, I really have no reason to stay any longer. Good luck, Kaito."
"Wait, please!" But it was all gone.
***
They know! They know.
Far away, if Kaito and Deltaworm could have been said to occupy a physical location in that moment at all, leaking tendrils of knowledge about the most terrible secret in the universe seemed to shiver and harden.
The door to Hold 78 did not open, but what was inside was now outside. What could never be known could now be inferred, and whatever temporal protection that held the lock shut snapped.
Nobody yet entered the room, nor left. He couldn't leave. Not now.
Inside the room, faintly visible behind the glassy veil of a cryo-pod, frozen tears clung to Admiral Shimizu's aged cheeks.
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